The Rebirth
by sefie
Summary: Two years after the adventures with Umbrella have ended, the Redfields learn that Raccoon City is rebuilt. Has Umbrella really changed?
1. Chapter 1

**_Author's note:_** Run while you still can, folks. Just run. Oh and if you ask why have a gatekeeper if you could have an automatic gate, I'll kill you. It's just the way it is! Reviews greatly appreciated and yes kids, this will be a series. Email me at rhea@mayaku.org or review.. your choice ~_^

Chapter One  
You could die but you're never dead; spider web  
A nervous breakthrough that makes us the same..  
***

17:00: Umbrella Headquarters in Raccoon City; the Gateway  
Harry numbly shut the metal gate and walked back to his tower, offering a wave to the white truck as it sped by. The driver didn't return the motion and it wasn't very surprising to him because they never did. Too busy with their projects or maybe they didn't have common courtesy. Whatever the case, Harry had decided a few weeks ago that it wasn't worth worrying over. All that mattered was that he smiled his same old man smile, dentures and all, and kept plugging away.

He exhaled and, noting how his breath hung in the air for several seconds, decided that it had to be below freezing. He was too old for this shit, who was he kidding?

"The answer is no one, old friend, no one," he said to himself, walking into the bleak, dark room that's only source of light was a small window someone had put in the corner to remind him of his true duty. Falling onto the chair, the sixty year old man pulled off his wool gloves and tossed them onto the desk in front of him. His hands hurt from opening the gate day in and day out and he took it as another sign amongst millions that he was simply getting too old to work.

"Goddamn arthritis," he cursed as he made a grab for his thermos bottle that contained coffee and Vodka. He took a sip of the mixture and turned the well-worn radio on, leaning back further in the chair. The chair alleviated the pain in his lower back, but there no such luck for his hands. Inwardly damning arthritis and old age to Hell for the hundredth time that day, he reached into the desk's drawer and emerged with a few Aspirin. Popping them like a drug addict, he took a swig from his thermos and swallowed.

Life for Harry Peterson was simple and it sucked. Being the gatekeeper only accented how little he had done with his life; his horrible, pathetic life. It was so horrible that sometimes he'd sit there and pray to God for death. Little did he know that his call would be answered so soon and in such a harsh way.

There was a God and Umbrella was its name-o..

17:15: Umbrella Headquarters in Raccoon City; the Labs  
Carrie Anderson swiped her card in the slot that opened the lab's door. She was going to drop the floppy that contained her report on the table and leave; a simple procedure, nothing more or less.

"Card recognized. Password please."

She grinned as she punched her password into the keypad next to the card slot, thinking about her blind date with a friend of a friend tonight. It sounded so promising. Richard, as they called him, the whole deal.. nice abs, beautiful blonde hair and--

"Invalid password," said the computer, "please try again."

"Fuck you too," she replied, her grin and mood faltering as she realized that she was probably cutting into her date time with this sidetrack back to the lab. Making matters worse, she couldn't just say she forgot about it and walk away. Her partner on the restoration of the T-Veronica virus assignment would be arriving from his dinner break in a few minutes and if he didn't have her reports, he'd probably have a heart attack on the spot. Although half of her liked the idea of him being stressed, the other part enjoyed the six figure salary she was receiving and didn't want to risk it. She could see it now: _Carrie doesn't work, I did all the work.._

"Wasn't I the one to actually revitalize the virus?" After a pause, she answered herself with a nod. Of course she was. She was smarter than that asshole and some day that uptight bastard would get his. She glowered, typing her pin number into the pad again. The door opened up, hitting her with a blast of cold air.

"Password recognized. User: Carrie J. Anderson. Identification number 804569," the computer said behind her.

Preoccupied by her thoughts, she tossed the floppy disc on the desk and then watched as it slid off the slick surface down the crack between the desk and the wall. _Fuckinghell. _She got onto her knees and slowly begun to crawl underneath the table, feeling a little like a little girl practicing an earthquake drill at school. Carrie grabbed the disc, scooted back and that's when she felt something crawling in her short hair.

"What the hell," she muttered as she stood up and dusted off her knees. Her whole head felt like it was on fire and _things were crawling in it_. She jogged over to the sink on the left wall and leaned in, staring in horror. Her whole head was crowned in ants. Fire ants.

They had chosen their new Queen.

17:30: New York; Redfields' Residence  
Chris Redfield scrubbed the wall behind the stove, trying to clean the remnants of pancakes from its once white surface. A few minutes ago, Claire had decided to try to get fancy in the kitchen by flipping a pancake. The results were clearly displayed around the kitchen; aside from the unidentified mass on the wall, it looked like it had snowed indoors. Flour was sprinkled about, a gift from Claire Frost herself. He sighed and the telephone echoed him.

"I'll get it," Claire cheerfully shouted from her bedroom. Sure _she _was cheerful, she'd gotten out of making breakfast and had tricked him clean it up.

A few minute of silence, and then she called out: "It's your looover.."

"Who, Leon?" He scrubbed at the wall once more and then tossed the sponge aside, knowing that it was former S.T.A.R's member Jill Valentine. Jill was more important than the wall any day, even if he'd never admit that to her face. The older Redfield walked out of the kitchen, heading towards Claire's room to collect the phone.

Claire met him in the hall, her eyes twinkling as she talked. "Why yes Jill, he's right here. Really? Wow."

"Jesus Claire, give me the phone," he yanked it from her and she yelped in protest.

Taking the phone back to his room and shutting the door, he plopped down onto his bed, listening to the soothing voice of Jill. She was talking about how the gang should get together for dinner tonight as long as he and Claire weren't busy.. a spur of the moment BBQ..

"Did you hear about the reopening of Raccoon City?" A favorite topic of hers.

"Yes, Jill, I did and although I don't like it, I can't see any major harm in it," he could almost hear her tensing up, "didn't the US government straighten out Umbrella last year after the incident?"

"Yes but.." she sighed loudly.

"I know," he paused, "once a rat, always a rat. But maybe they've really chang--"

"Sure they have. And Claire doesn't like Leon."

"She says she doesn't, you know," Chris replied, realizing he was very close to pissing the woman on the other end of the line off.

"I'm telling you, something's wrong there. I just.. keep feeling Nemesis' eyes on me.."

"Nemesis is dead you know," he said, hitting a nerve intentionally. Jill had been having horrible nightmares about Nemesis and the city ever since it was announced last month that rebuilding was complete. He was worried about her and he wished the dreams would just stop.

"Fuck you Redfield," her voice was still warm, but it held a warning. A warning that stated he was edging towards dangerous territory.

"Fuck you too, Valentine." Redfield charm just radiated through that reply.

"So are you two coming to the BBQ or not? Rebecca, Sherry, Leon and I will be there and _I _want you there."

"I'll have to ask Claire, but I'm pretty sure she doesn't have any plans."

"It's been a two years since all of this and she still isn't dating? I'm telling you, she likes Leon. Maybe I should tell him."

"Eck.."

"Fine, ignore the signs. Deny that I'm right," she said playfully, "well listen, I gotta go now Chris. Stay safe and come by in a few hours, the BBQ is going to be great. Bring Claire.."

"Roger that," he said, clicking the off button on the phone as he mouthed the three words he could never say to her face; _I love you_..


	2. Chapter 1.5

****

Author's Notes:This is a short chapter that I decided to just throw in because I didn't have anything to lose. It's not chapter two, it's actually chapter 1.5. It's not long enough to earn the title of two. Reviews are really, really appreciated ;p

Chapter 1.5  
You see me, see me calling  
I can fly but I watch you falling  
***

18:20; New York: Jill Valentine's Backyard

Claire Redfield speared a hotdog with a fork and slipped it into a bun that was strategically placed on a paper plate. She walked away from the grill and came to a stop at the picnic table that was adorned with food; potato salad, potato chips, baked beans and watermelon. Scooping up a spoonful of beans, she dropped them on her plate and, taking a look in both directions, casually approached the beer cooler. Taking one last look to assure no one was paying attention, she plunged one of her hands into the ice and emerged with a Coors light. As she turned around, she found herself face to face with Chris Redfield and Leon Kennedy. Busted.

"How sweet, you got me a drink!" Her brother took it from her hands and held it high above her head. She bit her lower lip and huffed, causing Leon to snicker; he was clearly amused by the response Chris received from his sister.

"I'm only a few months off the legal limit, Chris," she said, making a grab for the beer. He moved out of her way as she lunged for him and he tumbled forward. Managing to catch her balance for a second, Claire grabbed onto the nearest thing to steady herself. The nearest thing just happened to be the ex-cop.

Leon stumbled backwards from the collision and soon found himself underneath a beautiful girl. His arms instinctively wrapped around her waist and their eyes locked. That's when he realized Claire was crying. _Fucked up again Leon, she'll probably report you for sexual_–

That's when they both noticed the silence; everyone around them was silently watching. Leon took one last look at Claire's face; she was mouthing the name Steve. _Steve Burnside? What does he have to do with this?_ She crawled off him and stood up, offering a gloved hand. He shook his head no and was rewarded with a sob. She started crying harder.

Finally Jill broke the silence by asking: "What's that burning smell?"

Chris apologized profusely.. he had forgot to tend to the grill.

18:40; Umbrella Headquarters in Raccoon City: the Labs  
Taking the syringe that contained the T-Veronica virus in her shaky hands, Carrie brushed aside some of the ants that were covering her flesh and stuck the needle into her arm. She smiled, watching the syringe empty.. it was time.

18:50; New York: the Porch  
Claire sat down on the deck, folding her legs underneath her. She looked at the sky, towards the setting sun and sighed. The whole scene that had happened about thirty minutes ago had shook her up; it reminded her of Steve Burnside so much she could scream. She could hear his voice in her head saying Relax beautiful and all she could do to keep the tears from coming back was mutter "I'm ok."

"Who asked?" Leon sat next to her on the stairs.

"Huh?" She looked over at him and flashed a half-smile.

"Who asked if you're ok? Or were you talking to yourself or.."

"Oh, it's nothing," she said.

"You sure? You know Red, I've never seen you cry before.. before tonight, I mean."

"I think the biggest mistake I made was never crying for him," she offered, looking at Leon closely for his response. She felt like she could open up to him but she wasn't sure. He might tell Chris or Jill– then she'd never hear the end of it.

"It's ok to cry if you have to. You can cry on my shoulder."

"Redfields don't cry," she replied stiffly.

Leon could feel that he was losing her. Desperate times call for desperate actions and in a desperate attempt to find out what was bothering Claire, he grabbed her hand and wove his fingers in between hers. "I'm your friend, you can tell me."

"There's nothing to tell," she glared at him and yanked her hand away. She stood up and begun to walk away.

"Don't say I didn't try!" he called after her. He sighed, wishing that he had been able to reach her. She needed help. She needed a friend. She needed Leon Kennedy.. now if only he could convince her this.


End file.
